


What Fragile Bonds

by Babymamhu



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Arcee has some super emotional grit, Developing relationship tragically ended, Emotional Growth, Experiencing Loss, F/M, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4197360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babymamhu/pseuds/Babymamhu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arcee and Cliffjumper's relationship ended far too soon, before it had the chance to truly grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Fragile Bonds

_“On what slender threads do life and fortune hang…”_  
  
    - _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , Alexandre Dumas

 

* * *

  
  
     _-One week ago-_  
  
    Arcee was running some night-time diagnostics for Ratchet; Primus knew the old ‘bot needed his rest. She had to nearly pry him from the controls, even after he taught her the process. Stubborn, like her. Arcee could appreciate that.  
  
    Cliffjumper walked into the room, but she didn’t paid any mind. All of the bots had strange recharge schedules. No, she was too busy to acknowledge him…  
  
    …Until a servo brushed her shoulder, gently.  
  
    Arcee whirled as if burned, hands up defensively, backing into the controls. Cliffjumper seemed to loom over her, albeit in a completely unthreatening manner. His servo was raised, as if reaching, wearing the almost solemn expression Arcee pretended never to see. His eyes softened then, and it were as if he were trying to approach an injured animal. He may as well have been.  
  
    Arcee narrowed her optics, ignoring how the space between them begged to be destroyed. It was suffocating, she told herself. It was too close.  
  
    Cliffjumper reached forwards.  
  
    “ _Don’t_.”  
  
    She had meant for the word to be spat, but somehow it was whispered. This mech always did that to her, made her slip up. He made her relaxed, calm. Vulnerable.  
  
    The optics beseeched.  
  
    “Arcee…”  
  
    It was like a prayer, a sigh of exultation, how he said her name.  
  
    She pushed her back struts further against the controls.  
  
    “Cliffjumper. _No_.”  
  
    Whispered, again. Too soft. Too uncertain.  
  
    Arcee had known this was happening, had known there was something growing between them. It was more than partnership, more than companionship. She pushed it all down, deep inside her spark. The fluttering in her tanks, the sighing vents, the _looks_. It was dangerous. It was unthinkable. It made her too uncomfortable.  
  
    The tension had been building, growing steadily every time they were together; Exponentially so, when they were alone. It interrupted their easy conversation, invaded leisurely patrols. Arcee felt crowded, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.  
      
    She could handle physical attraction. The femme could ignore it, control it, or even command it. But this…  
  
    Cliffjumper would cast her that solemn look, so serious, so _certain_ …  
  
    And her spark would unravel, just for him. Just for the mech that could inspire her laughter, her mirth, her happiness. The mech who could handle her ire, soothe her anger. The mech who could coax her into dropping all defenses with simple banter, of all things.  
  
    To say Arcee was terrified was wrong, but to say that she wasn’t would also be wrong.  
  
    Cliffjumper sighed, lowering his servo.   
  
    “When’re we gonna acknowledge what’s happening between us, Arcee?”  
  
    He said it so softly, so gently. Patiently. The words hung in the space between them, and Arcee wished they would dissipate into nothing. She couldn’t look him in the optics, suddenly. Those deep blues spoke too loudly. Huffing quickly from her vents, Arcee folded her arms, as if to shield herself. Cliffjumper shifted.  
  
    “We’re good friends, ‘Cee. Partners. You know I’d never hurt you, in any way. Just let me in, let me show you. There’s nothing to be afraid of here. You can trust me, Arcee.”  
  
    Again, so gentle.   
  
    Arcee almost startled from the sudden longing that gripped her spark. The yawning hole of loneliness that had only ever spat out bitterness was suddenly enveloping her, screaming to be soothed, to be filled with life. She _wanted_ to give in, to fall into the warm emotions that kept bubbling up. She wanted this to heal her.   
  
    But more than anything, more than her wants, her desires, her _fears_ , Arcee felt she _needed_ Cliffjumper. She needed every part of him, needed to be included in who he was, entirely. It was suffocating, this feeling. It was intoxicating.  
  
    It was too much. Arcee wasn’t ready. Not yet.  
  
    She opened her mouth, quickly resetting her vocaliser when it only blurted static, embarrassingly. Arcee shuffled, looking anywhere but at Cliffjumper. He needed an answer, but there was only one she could give.  
  
    “…I… I need more time.”  
  
    The words traveled like sandpaper across her glossa, condemning her as if uttering the truth were a sin. It was sorry, pathetic. Cliffjumper deserved better than this, and she wouldn’t blame him if he turned around right that second and never looked back. She wanted him to, honestly. It would be better for both of them in the long run.   
      
    Of course, she knew that hope was futile.  
  
    “…Okay.”  
  
    Arcee looked up, caught immediately by the deep, resonating optics. Cliffjumper was smiling gently at her, all the patience and understanding in the world swimming in those blues. Her breath abandoned her.  
  
    “I understand.”  
  
    Everything screamed at her to push him away, to feel anything other than the relinquishing relief. But it coursed through her, filling her veins and making her feel weightless. Before she realized, before she could stop herself, Arcee smiled back.  
  
     _Thank you._  
  
    It was wordless, but Cliffjumper heard it loud and clear. He stepped forwards, and when he gently touched her arm, Arcee didn’t back away.   
  
    He was the only mech who could ever strip her so bare and build her up all at the same time. She felt lovely, in that small moment of contact.   
  
    “I’m gonna go get some recharge. You should too, soon.”  
  
    “Okay.”  
  
    Whispers. Whispers of promise, filled with assurances. He pulled away, still smiling, but it didn’t leave her feeling cold. A small voice at the back of her processor told her to panic, to feel uneasy, but she couldn’t bother to.  
  
    She was, in the moments watching him leave, content.  
  
    Their relationship returned to normal in the week after that night. They traded stories, playful banter, and laughed easily again. It felt right, unrushed. The voice stayed with Arcee, warning her, but it was quiet now. She was happy.  
  
    And then, during their regular patrol, Cliffjumper went to check out a large energy reading.  
  
    He never came back.  
  
    Arcee’s world shattered.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  _-Present Time-_  
  
    It had been easy, too easy. Arcee pushed it all in again, burying her emotions where they couldn’t be seen.  
  
    Where they couldn’t hurt her.  
  
    Arcee had done it so many times in the past, choosing to project rage instead of grief in response to loss. It almost seemed to be a programmed reaction, but she knew better. It was a defense tactic. A retreat.  
  
    The femme sat on the cliff of the autobot base, adjacent to Cliffjumper’s grave. The sky was vibrant with the colors of twilight, as the humans called it; Pinks and purples blanketed the horizon, blending into the coming blue of night. Stars twinkled overhead, blinking down at her.   
  
    Despite the inspiring, exotic beauty, Arcee felt cold inside.  
  
    This was her first night back at base since being put on babysitting duty for her human, Jack. Honestly, she hadn’t been looking forward to returning. The whole reason Arcee was up on the cliff was to escape; The base was a reminder. A bitter, shattering reminder as to what was missing. Every moment inside ate at her, bit by bit.  
  
    The others didn’t quite understand the depth of her relationship with Cliffjumper. In all truth, there _hadn’t_ been a relationship - it was a partnership, mutual camaraderie. Of course the others wouldn’t know. Nothing had happened. Nothing.  
  
     _Nothing._  
  
    Arcee clenched her digits around her forearms, hunching forwards to ball herself around her knees. All of her ached, swirling around that word.   
  
    Arcee had nothing to hold onto of Cliffjumper, except for fleeting memories and  elusive emotion. It was so easy for her to go back and re-write the feelings - to see all the hoping glances, the gestures, the smiles, the gentle touches - as something bland and unpromising.   
  
    She couldn’t hold on to any of those intangible things, and it _tore her apart_.  
  
    Arcee wanted him to come back, wanted it so passionately it felt like a _need_ , burning and swelling painfully through her chassis. The blistering need swept through her tanks, her arms, her servos, her digits, her pedes. It came in waves, never leaving and always arching into a blazing inferno that attempted to escape through her optics, as if her very essence wanted to melt into hot tears.  
  
    Worse than the desperate need and longing was the regret and self-hatred. Why hadn’t she just said yes, that one week before? Why hadn’t she put aside her selfish fears, her stupid ideas of inadequacy, to give Cliffjumper what he deserved from her? Why couldn’t she ever seem to hold on to a good thing?  
  
    And why did Cliffjumper have to be so _stupid_ in all of his bravado? Going out, engaging the enemy _alone_ … She always knew it would get him killed. And now he was…  
  
     _Worse_ than dead, worse than gun-metal grey.  
  
    The unbidden image of that creature, that _thing_ , clawing and snarling at Arcee, trying to do Primus knows what, sprang into her processor.  
  
    Arcee gripped her helm, squeezing shut her optics and trying to quell the sudden churning of her tanks. That thing hadn’t a shred of Cliffjumper in it. Ratchet had assured her, repeatedly, that Cliffjumper had to have been long dead before his husk was turned into… that creature of unholy desecration.   
  
    Slowly the image left, leaving Arcee a bigger mess than before.  
  
    The burning longing swept through her chassis, hitting her spark so hard she choked. Arcee vented in earnest now, trying to stop the warmth behind her optics. It grew and swirled inside her helm, making her dizzy. The weeks of buried pain, grief, and desolation, it all swept her up in a final arch of burning need, and crested.   
  
    The tears finally poured down her faceplate, scalding. Arcee palmed her optics, rubbing urgently, trying to stop the flow. A sob pushed past gritted denta, the raw sound of her sorrow. It wouldn’t stop, she knew. After a moment of holding back, hoping, Arcee let go.  
  
    The femme sobbed in the darkening night, sounds of grief filling the air around her.  
  
    It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. None of them deserved this fragging war. She wanted Cliffjumper back, _now_. She wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him the slagging words that had always bounced around her processor. She needed one more moment, one more chance to do it right…  
  
    Arcee wanted to die.  
  
    The thought was fleeting, but it brought her down some. Arcee didn’t want to die. She had too much here, too much to live for. Too much to protect. As much as she hated to admit it, Jack was growing on her. It was her duty to protect him. And the others…  
  
    Slowly, the stream of tears stopped.  
  
    Arcee wiped them away as they lingered. It had been time to let it all out. The femme chuckled. An old friend of hers would have called this ‘emotional progress’. She wasn’t certain about that, but she did feel a slag of a lot better. The pain and grief were there, as potent as ever, but she felt stronger, steadier.  
  
    Arcee stood, looking out into the star-speckled sky. Cliffjumper had given her too much for her to fall apart now, to resort to her old coping strategies.  
  
     _If you keep it all in you’ll explode, y’know. Let it out some!_  
  
 _Arcee, just let it happen._  
  
 _I’m sure you’ll be just fine, ‘Cee._  
  
    Cliff’s voice echoed through her processor, drawing a hesitant smile on her liplates. Arcee would be fine, in time, just like Cliff had said. She’d make new friends, have new adventures, and she’d survive. It would be painful as slag, but she would survive.  
  
    She would survive.  
  
    The tears burned to be released again, but Arcee held back. She could only let go of so much at a time.  
  
    The femme turned, ready to be with the team again. She paused, waiting next to the grave. Better late than never, Cliff had always said.  
  
    “…I love you, Cliff.”  
  
    Whispers. Whispers of promise.  
  
    Arcee moved forward, leaving the grave that rested beneath the stars. Although it was wordless, although it had never been said, she could hear the words echoing loud and clear.  
  
     _Love you too, ‘Cee._  
  
   
       
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this, in whatever way. I am so sad that Cliffjumper died. And in the first episode, no less! TT_TT
> 
> They were so beautiful, these two... But seriously, Arcee is TOUGH (yes I know, duh). Personally I believe that she had the most emotional growth out of everyone in Prime, and that it all started here with Cliff's death. Hope it seemed accurate, I did my best!
> 
> (Oh, and since I couldn't be bothered, I'm going to apologize for the weirdly explained timeline and explain it here. The first scene happens a week before Cliff's death, and the second happens about two weeks after his death. I'm screwing the actual event-timeline in Prime. Sorry... -_-;)
> 
> A shout-out to my beta reader, TipperTupper! <3 Go go go go go look her up!


End file.
